French train strike

I originally planned to spend an entire day in Nice with Helene, dad’s friend. At 8:30 this morning, after we’d taken her daughter to school, Helene dropped me off at the train station to find out what time I needed to leave for Spain. I would also get on-line and take a stroll before catching a train to Monte Carlo to meet up with her for lunch.

At 9:05 I lined up to get a ticket to speak with someone about my travel options. The ticket “dealer” doesn’t just give out tickets though. She first of all asks each person why exactly they want a ticket. It took me over five minutes just to reach her. I was then given a ticket and went to the waiting area for my number to be called.

At 9:20 I reached the counter, only to be told the French train system would shut down at 8 p.m. and in order to get to Spain today, I would need to leave Nice at 11:15. I would also need to make a reservation, a requirement on all Spanish trains.

I didn’t make a reservation since I didn’t have my bags with me and didn’t know if I’d make it, but I was damn well going to try. So at 9:42, I caught a train back to Beaulieu, where Helene lives. I rushed around grabbing my drying underwear from the balcony, and my toiletries from the bathroom, packed everything pronto, and at 10:20 headed back to Beaulieu station for the 10:35 train back to Nice. At 10:50 I lined up again for reservations. By the time I’d reached the ticket keeper and taken a seat in the waiting area again, it was 10:56. My number was 112. At 11:06 they were still only at Number 104, so I gave up and hoped the 11:14 train to Marseille shown on the timetable was the train I needed to catch. At least it was heading in the right direction. 

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